Carrots or Peas?
by PepperedPearl
Summary: ...Because Daryl hasn't given up on you, yet, she thought. And it's killing him that everybody else has. Chapter 2 edited!
1. Chapter 1

**AN: If you enjoyed this story, then please read the AN at the back. I hope you like it and have fun reading it!**

Carrots or Peas? by Peppered Pearl

"Carrots or peas? "

"_What? "_

Carol took a deep breath and clenched her fingers tighter around the cans in her hand. Why had she even brought those with her?

"There's stew for dinner. You want carrots or peas with it?"

The man behind the bars of the locked cell raised one cynical eyebrow. He was leaning against the far wall, arms crossed in front of his brawny chest. The concrete behind him was stained with dark splatters of old, dried blood with bits and pieces of… something sticking to it (probably brain matter, though, if Carol was truthful with herself).

_("Pick one", Rick had said. _

_His eyes had been cold as stone, the only thing more sarcastic than the tone of his voice being the wide sweep of his arm at the surrounding cells at the ground floor of their block. _

_But Merle had only sauntered into the one nearest, the one with the most blood on its walls, shit-eating grin on his face, three guns trained at his back and the wheezing of his brother's breath, who had collapsed against a wall, in the background.)_

"The hell ya get stew from?"

"Daryl caught a deer this morning", was her clipped answer.

It had been directly outside of the fences, a good distance away from the few walkers still clinging to it, grazing at whatever plant had been tempting enough to lure it out of the relative safety of the woods and into the proximity of such monsters.

Carl had spotted it, a tiny, meager thing, and Daryl had hurried after it, heaving it back inside, arrow clenched between his teeth, the heavy limp he had brought back from Woodbury visibly slowing him down.

They were lucky for it, because Rick didn't allow any of them outside the fences anymore, be it for hunting or otherwise, not now that they waited for this Governor to come knocking at their proverbial front door at any minute.

Something dark flittered over Merle's face at the mention of his brother's name.

"So. Carrots or peas?" She held the cans up in consecutive order.

A muscle in Merle's jaw ticked.

"Neither", he growled.

Carol pinched her lips and squared her shoulders. Be that way.

"Fine. Go hungry, then. There's only a little stew for everyone." They had quite a few mouths to feed, suddenly.

She turned her back on the cell. Relief washed through her. He scared her. She didn't like it, but he made her guts twist.

"Awwwe, c'mon now, gal! Wait!"

Carol turned back around unwillingly. Merle had pushed himself of the wall and came, once again sauntering, towards the bars. Grin back in place, crinkles around his eyes. He placed his forearms on the bars, looking down at her from beneath lowered eyelids. The clang of the metal of his right arm made Carol want to jump, but she forced herself to stay still, not swallow, and raised a questioning eyebrow at him. His grin got even wider.

_Like a skull_, she thought. His narrow face with the hollow cheeks and the cropped hair reminded her of a skull.

"Why care in the first place?", Merle drawled, eyes flickering down to the cans clenched so tightly in her hands she swore she could feel her knuckles turning white.

Carol stared at him.

_Because Daryl hasn't given up on you, yet_, she thought. _And it's killing him that everybody else has._

* * *

Carol heard their low murmuring voices as she approached them, but she couldn't understand a word of what was being said.

They had gone back to raid the cafeteria, bringing all the provisions from there into their cell block, stowing them away into one of the empty cells. While they had been at it, they had also carried over some of the tables that had still been useable. Most of those had been in bits and pieces from being used to barricade the doors, sometime back when the outbreak had begun. Others' tabletops had been smeared with what was undeniable the last traces of impromptu operations or something like that. Best not think about it too closely.

The three tables they had been able to salvage from the mess had been placed at the far end of the block, overshadowed by Daryl's perch. They used them for eating, mostly. But they also seemed to function as some kind of meeting point to confernce for Rick and Daryl, who had spent a lot of time there lately, talking in hushed voices.

When they heard Carol walking towards them, both men looked up. Their faces were drawn, lips pressed into tight lines. The heavy tension that had reigned over the group in these last days (waiting, just waiting for them to come) was visible in their hard eyes, the worry lines, and Rick's defensive stance. She came to stand just a few steps in front of them.

She was doubtful of her welcome, but she quashed the urge to walk away again in the face of their weary silence. Crossing her arms, Carol mirrored Rick's posture and refused to leave.

Rick eyed her for a moment, then he gave her a curt nod, unwound his arms and took long strides past her with a strained look on his face and mind obviously already elsewhere. He knew she wasn't here for him.

"Hey Rick!" she called after him nonetheless, on a whim. He stopped and turned his head slightly, showing her part of his profile.

"Judith's awake", she said softly. _Go spend some time with your daughter, allow yourself some rest,_ was what she really meant.

She knew he'd understood her when he gave her another small nod and she imagined she could see the corner of his mouth curl in the slightest indication of a smile.

Rick's footsteps reverberated in the great room as the man took the stairs up to the next level. Almost everybody was outside, trying to escape the despondent atmosphere hovering between the thick, bleak walls of the prison. Merely Beth had stayed behind to take care of the baby. There was only silence coming from Merle's cell. Carol was glad for it.

She turned back around towards Daryl. He sat on the edge of one of the tables, one leg drawn up onto it. His chin rested on his knee, one arm wrapped around his leg, grabbing onto the ankle. His other hand played absentmindedly with one of his knifes, letting the hilt dangle loosely between his fingertips and letting it swing back and forth, back and forth.

He was watching her, waiting, expressionless. (Not really, though, because carefulness was an expression, too.)

Carol smiled a soft smile at him.

_(Once Glenn had shut the cell door with an unnecessary loud clang and Merle was out of sight, Daryl had slid down the wall with a muffled groan, one hand pressed to his side, the other to his hip. _

_For an endless moment, everybody had stared at him, their tongues shriveling in their mouths, not knowing what to say, how to handle this whole fucked up situation._

_Then Judith had begun to cry, scream, awakened by the sound of the cell door, still hanging in the air as a deep hum that could be more felt than heard._

_Everybody had been called back into action, and someone had stepped forward to help Daryl up, but he'd just slapped the offered hands away. He'd looked at the group through narrowed eyes and heaved himself up off the ground, breaths short and shallow._

"_Leave m'be!" he'd rasped. "All o' you fuckin' people, jus' leave me be."_

_Carol had stared down at him from the second landing, fighting the tightening in her throat and the quivering of her lips. She had been feeling so, so relieved and now that'd felt like such a foolish thing to do.)_

That had been the morning two days ago. Since then, Daryl had avoided them all like the plague, apart from Rick, and had only let Hershel near him to let the man treat his wounds. Bullet wound, stab wound. That's what she'd heard, at least.

They had all respected him and kept their distance.

Now Carol'd decided she couldn't do that anymore.

And she'd thought hard about what to say, had laid the words out in her head (in the form of Sophia's colorful alphabet fridge magnets, as she had done for years). They evaded her now, all of them. And his eyes had already returned to the knife between his fingers already.

"I was sure I had lost you", she murmured.

He didn't say anything. His only answer laid in the way the blade suddenly stopped swinging, the narrow, curving tip pointing straight at the concrete floor. Her words hung in the air between them for a short moment (she could see the exact moment he realized what kind of conversation this was going to be), then he grabbed the hilt tightly in his palm and embedded the blade into the tabletop with a swift motion of his arm. He slid to his feet, turned around and reached for his crossbow that had been lying on the table next to him.

_I don't have time for this now_, the stiff set of his shoulders and back seemed to say. _Leave it be._

Desolate, Carol followed his movements with her eyes. This was definitely not the way she had wanted it to go.

"Tell me how I can help you! I want-"

"Hell, woman, I ain't needin' your _help_!" he grunted, irritated, strapping the bow over his shoulder.

_"_Yes, but I thought maybe you'd _want _it!"

Carol bored the tips of her fingers into her upper arms, feeling her heart seemingly run ten miles a minute. Blinking rapidly against the burn of her tears. She was always close to being a bubbling mess these days.

For a second Daryl's eyes flew up to hers and she could clearly see the surprise in them. Then he snorted and made to stride past her with wide, fast steps.

Carol clenched her jaw. The tears she had been fighting back so hard were now threatened to be spilled by anger.

"Fine! Whatever. You wanna be a coward, run away! I don't care!"

Daryl stopped short at the sound of her high-pitched, angry words this time, not even an arms-length away. Were he to make one step to the right, they would almost stand back-to-back.

He made a sound as if he wanted to say something, a muted, choked-off word she couldn't understand, then he only raised his arm and clasped her bony shoulder in his hand. He didn't look at her.

Carol stared mutely at the abandoned tables in front of her, at the grayish but still golden shaft of sunlight falling from one of the high windows. It reflected from the glinting, shiny blade of the knife still stuck in the wood, just outside of the perch's shadows.

Daryl's hand was heavy and warm. It was one of those hot, stifling days, so Carol only wore a tank top with thin spaghetti straps. Their skin was sticky and damp and stuck together.

The hand tightened its grip softly and then slid up and around her neck, fingers curling into the edges of her hair and thumb coming to rest beneath her ear. Carol stood still as a statue, kept on staring straight ahead. But her heart seemed to pick up even more speed and her breath had started to hitch and stutter and she knew he could hear it.

Emotions rose in her like old friends. Emotions she had harbored and nurtured over the months gone by, for a long time against better knowledge and then with more and more hope, because it had made hard, long, cold winter nights with an empty churning stomach easier to live through.

She registered the way the rough, chapped skin of his thumb felt against the soft skin beneath her ear as it ghosted over the spot there, one, two, three times, rasping, a soft, pleasant pressure. For a moment it felt so intense, she wanted to rip her head away from the sensory overload.

Then, with a final squeeze, his hand fell away completely and Carol heard the thuds of his boots against the floor as he walked away. The rattling of his keys, the clang of the door behind him, the sound of metal hitting concrete as he threw the keys back through the bars for Rick to pick up. The sound of another door, then he was gone.

Carol was left behind, vaguely asking herself if she actually had achieved anything right now. Her arms fell loosely to her sides. The skin of her neck felt flushed and tingly, the spot beneath her ear burned. She felt a knot forming in her chest. And when tears made the grey-golden picture in front of her swim, she raised her hand to her mouth and clenched her eyes tightly shut.

She had done so well these past few days, not giving into the urge to cry, not shedding a single tear, she'd be damned if she started now.

* * *

Just a few hours later the same day, Carol stood in front of Merle's cell and still hadn't answered his question, and Merle hadn't stopped staring down at her. His grin slipped as his eyes became more and more scrutinizing.

Carol blinked.

"Ya phased out there fo'a minute, gal. What's the matter?"

He had started tapping the metal of his right arm against the bars in a rhythmic pace. It made a high, unnerving sound.

_Cut that out_, Carol wanted to say. Instead she raised the cans in her hands one last time.

"Carrots or peas, Merle? I'm not asking again."

Silence.

Then the grin returned full force.

"Peas."

* * *

**AN: This is the first fic I've written in many, many years. I didn't think I'd ever return to writing fanfiction. All the more you would do me a great favour in reviewing and telling me what to think!**

**If you take the time to review, there are two things that are very important to me and that I would be overjoyed to hear your opinion about:**

**1. English isn't my first language. What I know I've learned in school that I only just now finished. I've reread this story a lot of times and I hope I've found all grammar/spelling mistakes, but more importantly: What do you think about the expression in general, and Merle's and Daryl's accent? **

**2. There's nothing I love more than in-character fics, and I strive to write them myself. To what degree do you think I succeeded in that?**

**Lastly, for now this is an oneshot, but I've got a second chapter in mind. Would you be interested in reading that?**

**Thank you for having read my story, I really hope you liked it!**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Once again, if you enjoyed this, please read the AN at the back. I really hope you like it!**

**Disclaimer: The Walking Dead belongs to AMC, Robert Kirkman and a whole lot of other TV people I can't remember. **

**EDIT: I read it over again, corrected some things, changed a little. I like it much better now.**

Carrots or Peas? - Chapter 2 by PepperedPearl

Carol stared up at the darkening sky and wondered what time it could be.

She vaguely remembered Dale rewinding his watch every morning to keep track of the new day's hours, even when it had no longer mattered. The rising and setting sun had become the only means of time measurement still important to them. And Dale's watch had been buried with him.

Carol pulled her thin cardigan tighter around her shoulders as she lowered her eyes back to the dying fire. Today, it seemed the chill of the evening had descended upon them before the heat of the day had even had a chance to stop flickering in the distance. They weren't yet so far into the summer and on some mornings, there was still frost clinging to the grass, turning the lush green into a pale turquoise. Tomorrow would probably be one of these mornings.

It would be fitting, Carol thought sadly, to the mood of their group.

* * *

"_I can't let you leave."_

_Rick's eyes were hard, his jaw set._

_The silence surrounding the group gathered around the fire for dinner became so dense, the cracking of the burning logs the only thing seemingly able to penetrate it, doubling in sound for it. Sparks flew up into the night sky._

"_You can't do that!"_

_The woman's, Sasha's, lips were quivering with the suppressed anger that was so obvious in her voice._

"_This is not our war you've got going on here! You've no right to keep us here, to pull us into it!"_

_Rick eyed the woman who sat close to the fire, knees pulled to her chest and arms wrapped tightly around herself, and shook his head. When he spoke, Carol could hear that he was trying to call on the gentleness that was so hard for him to take hold of since Lori's death._

"_I'm sorry. I know it's not fair, I know it's not. But you showing up here at the time you did…"_

_Rick let himself down on one knee, propping one elbow on his leg, and __lowered his head__ to bring himself to eyelevel with the woman. _

"_You could be his spies for all I know. Letting you go is not a risk I'm going to take. This is not up to discussion." He heaved a breath. "I'm sorry"._

_Sasha was seething, and now tears shown in her eyes, reflecting the light of the fire._

"_You think I want your apologies?", she hissed, leaning forward. The flickering shadows of the flames let her starved face and hollow cheeks appear almost ghoulish._

"_Your pity? Think I care? You want to know something? That you believe you can defend this place against those psychos, it's so fucking delusional, it makes me want to laugh!"_

_But she was far from laughing. And around the fire everyone had stopped eating, looking up from their tin plates and bowls to stare at her with weary eyes._

"_You're hopelessly outnumbered! And they are armed, they got tanks! Isn't that what you said, boy? Tanks!?"_

_She threw a look at Glenn, who pulled his cap deeper over his swollen, bruised eyes._

_Sasha did laugh then, a high, flimsy laughter that spoke of desperation._

"_What are you people thinking? You're going to get yourselves killed, all of you! And us, too, if you force us to stay here!"_

* * *

Carol closed her eyes and rested her chin on her knees, just like Sasha had done earlier, when tears had finally escaped her. Carol had felt sorry for her, but sure that any attempts at consolation would have been rejected. So she had sat there, in the cold, mute company of the group that had gotten all their worst fears thrown right into their faces by one desperate woman.

And she had tried to not let her own panic grab her by the throat and suffocate her. Now, almost two hours later and alone at the fireplace, she felt like she might have succeeded.

Carol felt the warmth of the last glowing embers tickle the skin of her nose and forehead, and suddenly she realized how tired she felt. The others had left quite some time ago, but she could still hear some of their voices from the inner courtyard, and she knew Carl wasn't far away, down at his mother's grave, where his father couldn't go.

Her back hurt from sitting hunched in the same position for such a long time. Opening her eyes and letting out a shuddering sigh, she decided that it was probably time to collect the boy and head inside. Dusk had fully settled in, darkening the colors and blurring the silhouettes of her surroundings, only to highlight the purple streaking the sky. The shadowy, bluish shapes of the clouds drifted along faster as the wind picked up. None of them were allowed outside after dark anymore.

Carol pushed her palms into the soft, already slightly wet grass to heave herself up, limbs tired and heavy, when she heard light steps coming up behind her.

She turned her head, looking over her shoulder and couldn't help the smile that pulled at the corners of her mouth, while, at the same time, a warm nervousness pooled in her stomach.

For a moment her thoughts flickered to Merle. She asked herself if the man had even eaten the damn peas she had taken the time to prepare for him.

Daryl made his way to her side, throwing her a short look from beneath lowered eyelids. He nodded barely perceptible in greeting, and Carol saw the insecurity in his eyes as bright as day.

He pulled his crossbow over his shoulder and let himself down on the balls of his feet next to her, laying the weapon beside him in the grass. For a moment she expected him to coax the fire back to life and pull out a stack of freshly carved bolts from under his poncho to heat them for bending. Or to ask for some more food (she knew Maggie had brought him something when she had left to take over watch from him after dinner). Something to indicate that he had had a specific purpose in coming out here other than just… her.

But he just propped his elbows on his knees and stared into the remains of the fire and she thought he was frowning.

"What ya doin' out here?" he asked in a voice low and even raspier than normal, probably from lack of use even greater than usual these last days.

Carol knew him well enough to know that what he actually meant was _What are you doing out here alone?_ and she was grateful he hadn't started this with an accusation.

She wrapped her arms back around herself and searched for something in the distance, a point to focus her gaze on that wasn't him or the embers that made her eyes burn.

"Carl's down at the graves. I told him I'd wait for him." She quirked a soft smile. "And I was glad for some time alone."

"Hm".

Having not found anything interesting enough in the distance to hold on to (she wouldn't even look at the walkers clinging to the fences), Carol's eyes flickered back to the fire and the small tin pot standing next to it. It was still filled with stew to almost a quarter.

She stretched out one leg, tapping the tip of her boot against it.

"You want some more? Believe it or not, there were actually leftovers."

Daryl snorted.

"Yeah, guess folks lost their appetite after the lady from hell finished with that little speech o' hers."

There really wasn't anything funny about the whole situation, but Carol ducked her head in a vain attempt to hide the soft snort that escaped her.

"So Rick told you about that?"

"Hm. They still ain't leavin', though."

"I figured that."

"We hashed it out with the guy, Tyreese. S'a good man. They'll fight with us. If all goes down t'plan, that means equal rights to the prison. If not…"

He shrugged and almost lost his balance, swaying, the muscles in his jaw pulling taut. Her gaze fluttered down his side, where she knew his clothing hid bandages.

"… won't matter either way, then."

She didn't know how to answer that. There was really nothing she could have said. And dwelling to long on it would render all of her efforts of the estimated last two hours useless.

So she let her gaze wander away again. They descended into silence.

It was the comfortable kind of silence, the one they had learned to share during the winter. Sitting on back porches of abandoned houses in the middle of the night, sleep evading them, and just taking comfort in the fact to be cold and hungry, and sometimes nearer to death than to life, but not alone.

It was getting really dark now. Just a small handful of glowing coals and ashes remained where bright flames had flickered earlier, looking like a fiery miniature night sky spread out to their feet.

Finally, and it surprised her that he had been stubborn enough to hold out so long, Daryl gave a pained hiss and fell back into the grass, folding his legs in front of him and pressing one hand to his hip. He cursed.

"You alright?"

She wasn't able to keep the concern entirely from her voice.

"Peachy", he grunted between clenched teeth.

She rubbed her hands down her arms, looked back at the fire, back at him.

"That the stab wound or the… bullet wound?"

That sounded so horrible, and despite herself she almost had to laugh again.

Finally he looked at her, just a quick turn of his head, and it was so dark already, she could barely see his face, but she heard the amusement in his gruff voice when he answered.

"Stab wound. Ain't as bad as it sounds, though."

She snorted.

"'Course it isn't."

He chuckled, and then they were both laughing softly, sitting in the darkness, barely being able to see a few feet ahead of them, and laughing. Carol felt her smile get ever wider. This felt so good. She had missed this.

Finally she heard Daryl shuffling around next to her, and then there was a bright beam of white light piercing the night air in front of them, reaching almost to the fences. Carol blinked rapidly and brought her hands to her eyes as Daryl placed his flashlight between them on the ground, causing a long lick of light to fall over the fireplace and the wildly growing grass behind it and illuminating seemingly every blade in a sharp relief.

Daryl started to speak while her eyes still had trouble adjusting to the sudden brightness.

"Listen, s' not that I don't _want_ yer help. I just don't think there's anything you can do t'help."

Carol forgot to wipe the tears clinging to her eyelashes, caused by the flashlight. He sat with his head bent, staring intently at his hands in his lap and fiddling with his fingers. She hadn't expected him to mention their confrontation this afternoon so directly, and she felt reminded of another day, last summer, when he had tried to apologize to her by bringing her to another Cherokee rose growing at the edge of that little pond.

She wanted to say something, anything, and she hadn't decided on what yet, but she opened her mouth anyway. He beat her to it, looking up and jerking his chin in the direction of the pot with the stew and the dirty dishes and empty cans lying haphazardly next to it.

"And you shouldn't waste yer time on cookin' my brother extra dinner n' sh- stuff."

His voice had gotten grim from one moment to the other and even from the side she could see his face had darkened in merely a second.

"He sure as hell won't thank ya for it."

She only continued to watch him carefully, not sure if this sudden small outburst was over with and tried not to feel hurt.

He raised a hand, rubbed it over his clenched eyes, raked it through tangled, stringy hair.

"Shit", he mumbled. "Goddammit. Sorry. That wasn't part o' the plan."

She raised one hesitating eyebrow, something in her desperately wanting to bring back the light mood from only moments before.

"There was a plan?"

His only answer was a non-commitical gruff noise. She looked back to the opened cans lying in the grass, shuddering when a wind picked up, looked back at him. Again.

So Merle had told him about her attempt at... extending a hand to him. She wondered why he would do that. There had to have been some kind of intention behind it. She couldn't imagine the Dixon brothers engaging in idle chit-chat just for the sake of it.

She felt something seize in her chest.

"Well, I didn't do it for him."

He turned his head, meeting her gaze straight on for the first time. His eyes were guarded from beneath lowered eyelids, his mouth clenched tight, but not that nor the sudden tension surrounding him could hide his deep insecurity in that moment. Carol almost had the feeling he was leaning away from her, but at least he didn't _look_ away.

Carol's gaze flickered, fighting to turn away instead. She felt her heart start to thunder in a way that reminded her of the farm, of the horrible feeling of helplessness and the cold spot in her tent where Sophia used to lie.

She bit into the inside of her lip as a feeling that had nothing to do with the warm nervousness from before started bubbling up inside her. She thought of the Governor, of Sasha's words and how much undeniebale truth had been to them. She thought about how all of them were running on borrowed time, now more so than ever. And she made a on the spur of the moment decision.

Carol certainly hadn't planned to do this, not today, not tomorrow, because she never had had the guts to do it. Not even after all the months of teasing and joking and surviving together and growing closer than she had ever expected them to.

She wasn't sure if she had them now, really, those guts, and her palms felt sweaty. But she kept on anyway, because if she didn't do it now, she knew she would never be able to work herself up to do it again.

So she ignored the pain in her chest brought on by the sudden swell of emotions and took a deep breath that shuddered so heavily, it almost made her want to chough.

"When they came back without you…", she started, faltered.

Tried again.

"You're my best friend. I can't…" She had the grim urge to laugh at herself for all her stuttering and mumbling.

She saw Daryl's eyes widen slightly before squinting at her. The muscle in his cheek ticked, causing one eye to twitch. He tilted his head back, his face hardening. She knew that expression. He was closing himself off, shutting her out. Now she had to keep herself from panicking with all her might, and she rushed on before she could change her mind or he could bolt.

"I want this to be more. Us." she blurted. "I want-. And I guess I thought maybe you would want that, too."

As soon as those words left her lips, he seemed to physically shrink away from her, hunching his shoulders and turning his face away again, the muscles in his jaw working furiously.

Carol forced herself to keep looking at him. She felt herself trembling, not from the cold because she felt hot and flushed, like a furnace. The knot of anxiety her whole body had become was almost impossible to bear.

"S' damn stupid", he whispered, sounding half choked. She felt herself recoil and now she did look away, pushing the nails of her one hand hard into the ball of the other.

"Of all the times… don't even know if we'll be alive next week this time." The choked out chuckle sounded devoid of all humor and died away into a heaving breath.

"Ter actually bind yourself to someone. D'ya like settin' yourself up to get hurt, woman?"

Carol opened her mouth, heaved a dry breath.

"I..."

But all her good graces had forsaken her, and every last shred of bravery she had managed to retain in the last minutes with them.

Then there were footsteps coming up the hill to their left. Carl. She saw the second flashlight dancing towards them, the dark silhouette of the boy's slight form behind it.

Her head whipped back around to Daryl, because suddenly she found the fear to leave this situation unconcluded far more overpowering than the fear to get hurt.

But he was already reaching for his crossbow, and she fumbled, at a loss for words once again.

"Fine", he growled. "Whatever. You wanna make yourself miserable…".

He snatched up the flashlight, raising hastily to his feet, strapping his crossbow over his back. Than he reached out a hand to her.

There was grime under the bitten-down fingernails and his palms were full of calluses. Carol tried, and failed, to understand the words he had hurled her way.

But when he started shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other and his hand twitched as if he wanted to pull it away again, she hastily grabbed hold of it. He pulled her up with a jerk. She swayed and he grabbed her shoulder, steadying her before dropping away as if she burned him.

As Carl came nearer, the beam of his flashlight danced over them. For the first time of the whole evening, she could see Daryl's face clearly.

There were dark circles under his eyes, the small scar under the right one making them appear even deeper. His lips were dry and cracked, he hadn't shaved in a long time, his hair was an oily mess.

He was only able to look at her for a short moment before he looked to the side, over her shoulder, probably focusing on Carl.

"Warnin' you, though. I ain't any good at… at all o' it."

And that was Daryl's own twisted way of telling her that yeah, maybe I want that, too. Even if I think it's a fucking bad idea.

Carol spluttered, wanted to say that that didn't matter, but she was pretty sure he wouldn't appreciate that, so she settled for a simple shrug. She felt dizzy with the sudden rush of relief and other undefineable emotions that robbed her of her breath. And she was incredibly glad for Carl's arrival because she wouldn't have known what to say or do next.

Carl came to stand just next to the fireplace, stepping into the circle of white light their combined flashlights were creating. It made the boy's pale skin seem even sicklier, his cheeks even more hollow. He looked at them with the same enigmatic, cold expression on his face that he carried since Lori's death, that always made chills run down Carol's spine and her heart clench in sorrow, even now.

"We going or what?" he asked them, gaze shifting between them. Daryl gave a tight nod and stepped forward, stomping on the fireplace with one foot. The grey ashes scattered and for a short moment some weak orange sparks jumped up into the air and had died before they'd drifted to the ground again.

Carol fumbled, bent down to gather the dishes, dropping and stacking everything into the pot, stew be damned, and finally picking it up, straightening and pressing the weight to her chest. She nodded.

"'Kay. Ready." God, her voice was hoarse.

They made their way through the grass towards the open gates in the fences separating the outer from the inner courtyard. She heard Daryl's keys rattle as he picked them off his belt to close them behind her.

The cold of the metal against her chest, even through the fabric, made her realize how hot she still was. She knew her hands hadn't stoped trembling, too.

She tried to focus, but everything was abuzz in her head. She felt the urge to cry again, and she didn't even know what kind of tears they would be. Things were looking grim for them, she knew that. And she was afraid, because she would be stupid if she weren't. But beneath the havoc of her emotions, she felt a shy glowing happiness growing, together with a whole lot of nervous excitement.

Carol ducked her head deeper over the dishes in her arms as she felt a soft smile she couldn't fight growing on her lips. She followed Daryl and Carl into the prison looming black and huge over them, and she smiled.

**AN: God, it's late. And I'm really tired, so let's do this fast: This chapter was a gigantic pain in my a-. I've been writing on it for days now, always changing things. To tell you the truth, I'm not entierly sure about it. Some parts I'm very happy with, others not at all.**

**Or in other words: I really need your reviews! Please, please, please!**

**- 1: My main fear is that this chapter isn't really in-character, though I really tried. So please give me your opinion on that.**

**- 2: I'm really nervous about the plot. Daryl and Carol entering a relationship like that. Like, talking, and everything. In all their scenes in the show they stand out to me because they actually can talk with each other, while they are relatively close-lipped with others. Well, Daryl, anyway. But then one reviewer wrote that comunication without words is one of the key-points of their relationship. And that's so true, too! But that was what the last chapter was all about, so I wanted to explore the other side in this one. Please, tell me what you think!**

**Finally, I want to say THANK YOU to everybody who reviewed. I didn't expect so much response, it kept me going with this chapter and it was all-around awesome! So thank you!**

**This story is definitely complete now, but I really want to write other ones that will play in the same ark. So keep your eyes open! (Here I wanted to insert a smiley face, but I have no idea if that's even possible on . So imagine a smiley face, please.)**

**And now I really need to go to bed. Good Night!**


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